Monday is Shrink day......

I see my psychiatrist today. Let's call a spade a spade, shall we? Anyway, I plan to talk about my medication big time. I miss that feeling of writing whatever is in my mind at the moment. Right now, there seems to be nothing in my mind but what is on for today, which is not much.

Got a call out of the blue from Jonathon's grandmother. You may remember Jonathon as the young man who lost his life not quite a year after Travis left us. He Travis and EJ grew up together. We used to be the greatest of friends, did everything together, Joann and I, and we had a fight over kids. Imagine that! Anyway, now we are friends again. She called to tell me that a story appeared in the paper out in Washington, or California, I forget where she is now, that featured Travis' widow and children. Never lets a photo-op pass her by, now does she? Ok, that was mean. Very mean. Extremely mean. And, boy did it feel good.

My daughter in law has reminded me, that as the next of kin, she owns the rights to Travis' image. Let her use it wisely.


The psychotic bird is back, banging its head against the window. Thump, thump, thump, it is driving the cats to distraction. I still believe he sees his reflection and is trying to thwart off competition. I must get a new camera. Its a cedar waxwing. Let's hope his courtship goes off without a hitch. HA! Providing he doesn't knock himself out first.

work

Each day at work seems to bring a different kind of personality through the door.  There are days I dub old people day, kid day, stupid day, and question day.  Yesterday, everyone was full of questions. Unfortunately, I did not have all the answers.

One lady bought 30 boxes of tissues to distribute to the needy.  A very noble endeavor, but I kept thinking if I were needy, tissues would be the last thing I wanted. Call me ungrateful and mean, I just felt like food might have been more appropriate. Boxes and boxes of Kleenex, the small boxes at that.

She also bought toilet paper, six packs of 24 rolls.  These also were for the needy. And, yes, I can see this as a necessity, and an often overlooked one at that. She was quite demanding in how many bags to use, what size, and was overjoyed in recounting her last visit to Mexico. Maybe she's going back!!  Just another night in the little store that could.

I have found that the nicer the customer is dressed, the ruder they can be. I often forget I wear a name tag, and that when people call me by my name, its because of the tag. It takes away a certain sense of privacy for me. The toilet paper lady used my name frequently and was dressed extremely well.  Ok, maybe I have a little reverse discrimination going on, who knows? Maybe I am prejudiced against people with a lot of money.

My favorite customer is the elderly man, who knows what he wants to buy, doesn't fuss about every little thing, and digs in his pockets for the correct change. He is invariably polite. They also remind me of my dad.  Enough said.

Medication

I hate my medication, but I'm afraid to stop taking it. It works. My moods are pretty stable, and I'm not nearly as paranoid as I used to be. I can let worries go for a while, which is wonderful. I used to spend hours ruminating over the most ridiculous things. However, abilify seems to stem my creative juices.

My blog is becoming leaner and leaner all the time. I think of things to write about, then promptly forget what it was when I sit down to write. Could be writers block, I'm not sure. Anyway, I miss my somewhat skewed vision of life and its follies. I may take a writing hiatus. If I don't post for awhile, that is why. I will continue to read the blogs I love and catch up on new ones I've discovered.

Maybe I can even make adjustments to my meds where I can unlock my creativity again. Actually its very common for people with Bipolar disorder to hate their medication. The very thing it corrects is the aspect of the disease that most sufferers love: creativity, high risk behavior, and grandiosity. Who wouldn't want to fill like they are the smartest, sexiest, and most driven person in the world? Alas, its a facade, but while you're in it, it seems so real. Though we tend to make asses of ourselves, we don't see it. We think we are normal and everyone else is slowed down. Which is also why bipolar people are so hard to get along with. Its not just the mood swings, it's that grandiosity rearing its ugly head.

Anyway, I love you all, and will be back as soon as I can. Which, for me, could be ten minutes from now, or two months. We'll see which way it goes.

A very revealing post, don't you think?

Soft Touch

I am a soft touch. I know this, but so far have done nothing about it. You need 20 dollars? Call me, I'll come up with it for you, even if I end up giving you my last 20 dollars. I hate this about myself. It has caused me no end of problems. Why can't I say no?

I remember often the times when I was down and out. I know what it feels like, and wouldn't wish it on anyone else, but, I can't save everyone. I know this, but I still give in to some need to mother everyone and his ugly-ass brother.

How do I change this long-time behavior? How do I say no and stick to it? If anyone has any suggestions, please feel free to leave them in the comment section. I am at my wits end.

Darkness

The candle flickers faintly as the darkness deepens. Shadows begin to fill the corners of the room, and when she breathes, her breath makes a fog in the air. The darkness and cold go hand in hand.

She wonders how she got here. What happened to make her life so hard. "It's best not to dwell on it," she admonishes herself. What's done is done. She worries more about her cats than anything else. Her son is safe, this one, at any rate. He is warm tonight. Her other son, well, she likes to believe he is warm as well.

The silence is like a separate entity,keeping her company. She shivers in the cold.

There will be changes, she thinks. There has to be. She realizes she must learn to say no. Money has always been tight for her, but this has taught her a lesson. Lessons taught the hard way seem to take. And this one is hard. She doesn't want to think about tomorrow. She has no idea what she will do. She wants to talk with someone, anyone, so badly, it hurts her inside.

But there is no one. No one at all. She watches the candle flame ebb and flow with the currents in the air. She bundles herself up as best she can, not caring if her shoes are on her sofa. Its a long night ahead, and sleep does not come easy. Too many ghosts fill the night around her. Too many things left undone. God, please help me, she breathes.

And who is she? Just one of the millions of people who spend their nights shuddering in the cold. Some call her aloof, some call her friend, and some call her a gold star mom.